


shared destiny

by JulieMalfoy



Series: Eternal Love [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gay, How Do I Tag, LGBTQ Themes, Lot of hate, Love, M/M, Torture, author loves to chat in the comments bc they make me very happy, more tags to come as we go, not always, sometimes cheesy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 16:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulieMalfoy/pseuds/JulieMalfoy
Summary: Thranduil and Elrond are happy as they travel to Imladris to share the news of their relationship with the Half-Elven’s people. Little do they know that their announcement was not well-accepted in Mirkwood, and events are beginning to unroll in their absence that not only endangers their homes, but their loved ones, as well.Disclaimer: This is the sequel to Shared Kingdom and I would recommend reading that part first before proceeding to this one. Obviously you can do whichever you prefer, but some things will be more clear if you have read the first part.Elrond and Thranduil are still very gay for each other, and that won't change.Also I don't yet know how graphic this will be, so I rated it 'Mature' to be sure.
Relationships: Arwen Undómiel & Elrond Peredhel, Elladan & Elrohir (Tolkien), Elrond Peredhel/Thranduil, Father & Son, Legolas Greenleaf & Thranduil
Series: Eternal Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103063
Comments: 18
Kudos: 24





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It has been a while since I published, but here I am. First of all, I hope you had a good start into the new year – may it be better than 2020! If you have read 'Shared Kingdom', welcome back! If you haven't, welcome! If you want to read the first part, here it is: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24608254/chapters/59445904 . Obviously I won't sue you if you don't want to read it, but it might give you some important context in order to understand the premise of this part. That being said, have fun reading!

The waterfall and the trees surrounding the river were the ideal scenery for a romantic stay, and Elrond was happy to be there, in Rivendell, showing his home to Thranduil, who failed to take his eyes off his surroundings. The intricate architecture of Imladris was overwhelmingly beautiful and it sparked a joy deep within Thranduil that the Elven-King had not known that he was capable of feeling. The courtyard was, despite the departure of many of the Elves that had once resided here, rather busy, and many Elves dressed in grey-blue cloaks roamed around, welcoming their Lord after he had stayed away for a while. Elrond was glad to be in the place he called home, and even more so to be there with his newfound love.

  
Thranduil had once been to Imladris, but that visit had occurred a very long time ago, back when they were solely discussing mere political matters, and even that they had done reluctantly, for their dislike for each other had always been a barrier to properly get familiar and acquainted, and the Elvenking regretted his once felt prejudice toward the Lord.

  
Now, the two strolled around side by side, so familiar with each other that the recent turn of events felt as if things had changed ages ago instead of only weeks. The two Elves knew each other inside out, and every movement, no matter how small, was known to the other before it happened. It was as if they were connected on a spiritual level, and Thranduil was convinced that that was the case – after all, he had heard Elrond’s voice in his head when he had been on the search to find the Half-Elven. It still felt odd, to have had the now gone connection, and Thranduil still was not sure whether it had only been a result of his frantic imagination. He was, however, determined to look through some of the records here, in Rivendell, in the hopes of discovering something that might give him some answers.

  
“Ada!” a female voice said softly behind the two, and Arwen Undòmiel walked up to them, her dress gracefully dancing around her legs with each step that she took. Her long hair fell down her shoulders in thick waves, and she looked upon her father with only love in her eyes. She gently took her father’s hands in hers, holding them tightly while her eyebrows were knitted in worry. Despite the Healers in Mirkwood, some of the wounds that the orcs had inflicted on Lord Elrond had remained as faint scars that had yet to heal, and Arwen glanced upon them, softly touching them with her fingers and tracing the healing lines on Elrond’s fair skin.

  
“Arwen,” Elrond smiled, cupping her face in his hands. “I am alright.”

  
His daughter did not look so convinced, and she opened her mouth to protest, but Elrond spoke before she could react.

  
“I truly am,” Elrond insisted. “I have healed, and I am in no pain anymore.”

  
Arwen still did not look convinced, but she trusted her father, and she knew that he was honest with her. He had always been honest. She had read all of his letters to her and her brothers, and she had almost gone insane with worry, for never had anything like the past events happened. Never had an Elf of such a high position been taken by Orcs – Arwen did not want to imagine what her father had been through, but she was eternally grateful that Thranduil had saved him, endangering himself despite being King.

  
It would be a lie if Arwen pretended that she had not been surprised as she heard that it had been Thranduil who had saved her father. After all, Elrond had not left Imladris in good spirits – in reality, he had been fairly moody and discontented, not at all complacent about his urgent meeting in Mirkwood. He had not stopped complaining about how Thranduil never took part in anything that did not only concern him – the Battle of the Five Armies had merely been an exception. He had never come to aid anyone, and his son wilfully joining the Fellowship of the Ring had definitely been a pleasant surprise as well, for, as the son of the king and Prince of Mirkwood, Elrond certainly had not expected anyone from that kingdom to get involved in the destruction of the One Ring, let alone the son of Thranduil. Now, years after Sauron had been defeated, Thranduil had decided to get involved after her father’s visit, whom he had then attempted to save. Arwen was incredibly grateful – even though she was aware of her father’s capabilities in a fight, she did not think that he would still be alive if it had not been for Thranduil.  
There was one thing she did not know yet, though, and the restlessness residing deep in Elrond’s heart occupied his mind at all times, and had been doing so ever since he had remained in Mirkwood for a while longer and had only grown stronger ever since he had departed with Thranduil who had left his son in charge to lead their people.

  
Back in Mirkwood, Elrond had judged Thranduil for not being able to share his new love with his son yet, but now he understood him more than he ever could have done before. He was not ashamed of his feelings for the other Elf, nor did he want to hide it – the only issue that he had was that he did not know how any of his children would react, since Elrond had never had these kinds of feelings for anyone but his late wife who had departed in the Third Age, long before the War of the One Ring had fully started. After her departure, he had never committed to any person, but only resolved to being with his children, who were thankful to have him as their family. Never had he ever considered loving someone the way he had loved Celebrían, let alone a male Elf. Even though he was not the only Elf in Middle-Earth in a same-sex relationship, which was not odd at all, it was still unbeknownst to him of how his children would react to the news.

  
He understood Thranduil more than ever for hiding behind that wardrobe a few weeks ago, out of sight of his son who had been searching for his father at the palace. Elrond had been furious then, but now he understood the dilemma the Elvenking had found himself in. Legolas had been very accepting and encouraging, which both Elves were very glad for. Elrond knew that his children would be too, but the fear of their reaction enveloped his heart and made his chest tighten up which gave him the feeling as though he was incapable of breathing properly.

  
“Father!” two male voices exclaimed behind Arwen, and she turned around to welcome Elladan and Elrohir, her older twin brothers, who playfully jumped down the stairs the way they always did, not bothering to hide the excitement on their faces. After receiving news from Mirkwood, they, too, had been deeply disturbed about their father’s state, and were perfectly happy to see him stand in front of them again, as happy as ever.

  
“Did Legolas come too?” Elladan asked, not bothering to ask his father about his well-being. Arwen looked at her brother with discontent, but did not quite manage to hide her smile. Her brothers were full of energy, and they had always been, but their entire life, they had been very fond of Legolas, who also cherished the twins’ company. Despite their difference in character, they had always been able to rely on each other, and Arwen’s heart warmed up every time she saw them together.

  
“Legolas is currently taking care of Mirkwood,” Thranduil now exclaimed, speaking for the first time ever since Arwen had joined them. “I figured that now is the right time for him to prove that he is the worthy heir to my throne.”

  
“And he will do well,” Elrond answered with a smile. Not only had he seen the Elven Prince fight on multiple occasions, but he had also seen him take on responsibility, and he knew that he would not disappoint his father and king.

  
“I do not doubt that at all,” Thranduil responded softly, locking eyes with Elrond and blushing slightly.

  
Arwen and her brothers looked at the two Elves suspiciously, not daring to make any assumptions, but still assuming nonetheless. After hearing Elrond complaining about Thranduil’s ways of living every day for at least a week before his departure to Mirkwood, it certainly was odd to see the two be so amiable and amicable with each other.

  
“My dears, I have something important to discuss with you,” Elrond said to his children – they were not children anymore, and a few centuries had passed since they had been children, but he could not help see them as such. He nodded at Thranduil, who bowed his head and turned around, not before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Elrond knew that Thranduil would be standing close, listening, ready to intervene and explain if needed, but on their way to Imladris, the two had decided that it would be better for Elrond to discuss the matters with his children first. So the Elvenking bowed to the Lord of Imladris and left him with his immediate family, who looked up at him in anticipation.

Arwen was surprised, but not shocked, and did not mind when she found out the truth about King Thranduil’s visit. The twins looked shocked, however, and she was sure that they had not anticipated this outcome in any way. Neither had she, admittedly, but she did not have any objection. After all, she had been friends with both Faramir and Eomer ever since Aragorn had married her, and the two men’s relationship had been handled as if it was no exception to the rule of a man marrying a woman. Elladan and Elrohir had, however, always dwelled in Rivendell, where most Elves either refused to take part in any form of commitment, or where Elves resolved to being in relationships with the opposite sex. Sometimes, the twins had been in Mirkwood to visit Legolas, including the time when they had gotten drunk over a particularly strong wine, fallen asleep while guarding the dungeon and involuntarily helped the thirteen dwarves escape. But other than that, they had always been in Imladris, basically shut off from the world, and Arwen could not blame them for their surprise.

  
Elrond, on the other hand, looked both relieved and on edge at the same time, nervously awaiting the twins’ and Arwen’s answers. His daughter looked up at him and put on an honest smile, her eyes glinting with joy.

  
“Are you happy?” she asked after a while, looking at her father intently, who nodded, once, twice, before looking at his daughter with glee.

  
“Yes. I am,” he responded, his voice merely a whisper. His heart was filled to the brim with adoration for Arwen, who had always been with him, never leaving his side. And even when she had needed to leave, she had stayed – admittedly not for him, but for Aragorn, but she had stayed nonetheless, and Elrond did not have to give her up.

  
“Then I am happy for you,” Arwen said and looked at her brothers expectantly. Elladan nodded reluctantly, and Elrohir followed suit, neither of them saying anything at all. But their silence said more than a thousand words ever could have, and Elrond excused himself, the lump in his throat growing tremendously with each second that passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you've reached the end of the prologue. I hope you enjoyed it – do not refrain from leaving comments and/or kudos, I appreciate that immensely (whether it's positive or negative critique, so long as you're nice about it), I don't bite :) I don't know when I'll update the next time, simply because I don't have that many chapters yet, so bear with me. Hope you're all doing well, and see you next time!


	2. Chapter One

Thranduil’s heart had sunk as he observed the twins’ response to their father’s announcement – he had hoped for them to understand and to approve, the way Legolas had done, which Thranduil was incredibly grateful for, but he felt the disappointment deep in his bones. Elrond’s disappointment was clearly visible on his face, and his eyes were fixed on the ground beneath him, even though he was still holding his head high, the way only an Elvenlord would do, despite going through an inner turmoil. 

Thranduil was worried and followed Elrond, not wanting him to be alone when he was so clearly upset, for it upset him as well, seeing his beloved so hurt. It was rather odd, thinking about how worried Thranduil currently was about Lord Elrond’s well-being after having seen him almost die on multiple occasions in Mirkwood, almost succumbing to his injuries that those horrible Orcs had inflicted on him, just for the sake of amusement and revenge. But Thranduil had not been as worried as he was now, for the injuries had mostly been physical, despite the obvious mental torment as well. This, however, was a lot worse – having your own family turn against you. Thranduil had never felt anything like it, although Elrond being furious at him in Mirkwood when he had still been unsure of what he wanted, he had come close to that feeling of despair and loneliness. 

The Elvenking was sure that the twins merely needed time to adjust, to understand, but he knew that they would come around eventually – he was convinced that they would realize that, as long as their father was satisfied and well, that was all that mattered. 

Elrond had been walking ahead of Thranduil, who hurried after him, his feet elegantly gliding across the bright floor, his step not at all heavy, which gave the impression as of his feet did not touch the ground at all, but that he was floating in the air in a way that only Elves ever mastered. Eventually, Elrond arrived at his destination after walking for another while, the entire time keeping his mouth shut tightly while his thoughts were running wild, his mind racing. His chest felt awfully tight, as if panic was creeping up from behind him, hugging him softly at first, hardly noticeable, before squeezing tightly, cutting off his airways, not letting him go no matter how hard he fought against it. His sons’ surprised faces remained rather vividly on his mind and haunted him the entire time that he was walking, hardly registering that Thranduil was right behind him, undoubtedly wanting to console him.

The Half-Elven opened the large, wooden door in front of him and gently pushed it open. The metallic hinges created almost inaudibly, and Elrond kept his hand on the door to keep it open, allowing his guest to step over the threshold onto the most beautiful balcony that he had ever seen. 

It did not have railings, but instead allowed a clear view of the fall that one would have to endure if one decided to approach the edge and challenged their luck. Branches of green bushes were growing over the edge of the balcony, hiding the extreme height that both Elves found themselves in, and Thranduil felt oddly at ease. A bird fluttered past him, its winds flapping loudly, its song as beautiful a melody as Thranduil had ever heard.

Elrond finally stopped walking once he had reached the edge where he sat down, allowing his legs to dangle down into the abyss where the roaring waves of the river sounded so majestic and powerful. Thranduil stood awkwardly behind the Elvenlord at first, unsure of what he wanted to do and what he was supposed to do. He wished he had acted to Elrond’s thoughts to be able to do and say the right thing, and he wished to be more comfortable and confident with everything he did around Elrond without fearing failure. After a few moments of consideration, he gently lowered himself into a sitting position next to Elrond who was sitting there motionless, his brows furrowed in concentration and thought. Thranduil gently took his hand into his, softly brushing his thumb against the soft, warm skin of the Half-Elven.

They remained quiescent for a while, both chasing their own thoughts, unaware that they were thinking about the very same thing.

“Elladan and Elrohir,” Elrond began but choked on his words, “they are not exactly thrilled.”

Thranduil nodded.

“I know. Forgive me, but I could not help but overhear their silences after you had let them know about us.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Thranduil,” the Half-Elven smiled sadly. “I am glad that you listened, for I do not know whether I am capable of recounting what they have said –or not said, for that matter.”

“We do not need to address the issue at hand,” Thranduil offered, unsure if Elrond wanted to delve in the sadness that he felt and talk about it, or move on and forget about it. 

“That is quite alright,” Elrond responded quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.

Thranduil waited for him to say something more, but Elrond was silent again, looking up at the clear blue sky with sad brown eyes. 

“I am proud of you for telling them as soon as you had the chance,” Thranduil then said earnestly, squeezing the other hand tightly. To his relief, Elrond’s fingers tightened around his own.   
“You were braver than I was in Mirkwood,” Thranduil went on. “I was a coward, too intimidated by my own troubled thoughts to do the right thing. You, however, did the right thing as soon as you saw an opportunity to. I admire that.”

Elrond sighted.

“What you consider courage has not gotten me anywhere,” Elrond sighted in frustration. “It might have been bold of me to tell my children right away, but it could also have been a reckless move just as easily.”

“Reckless?” Thranduil asked.

“Elladan and Elrohir have always been oblivious to these sorts of things,” Elrond explained. Indeed, the twins had been rather oblivious to these sorts of things, for they had never left Imladris to get accustomed to such phenomenons. They had only ever left to travel with the race of Men, the Dunedain specifically, whom they were friends with and appreciated very much. After fighting in the War of the One Ring, they had come back to Rivendell, only sometimes leaving to visit an old friend.

“They will come around,” Thranduil said. “They just need time to fully understand, which is alright. They did not say that they mind, nor did they object. They were simply surprised, which is alright, for I doubt that they expected this, as you did not like me very much before you came to Mirkwood.”

He had said the last part with a slight grin and was relieved that Elrond smiled. 

“That is very true indeed,” Elrond answered and huffed a laugh. 

The two Elves looked at each other with compassion before they allowed their lips to meet, passion and love erupting in Thranduil’s chest. He pressed himself against Elrond, painfully aware of the edge of the balcony which he could tumble off if he didn’t pay attention. The Half-Elven let out a soft man moan, his right hand reaching for Thranduil’s hair – when he found it, he stroked it, softly caressing him with adoration. He could feel the other smile against his kisses, which made him smile in return, and even though the thought and fear of his twins not being fully accepting of what he and Thranduil were, this was good, and that was all that he was asking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At some point, I will add proper chapter titles, but as of now, I just don't know what to call them. I do hope you enjoyed this chapter, and as usual, kudos and comments make my day! :) The pace of the story will pick up too, don't worry about that, I just wanted to experiment with a slower beginning.   
> Just a quick side note, I still don't know when I will update, or if I am even able to update regularly, because tendinitis in both my hands is not-really-but-kinda-sorta kicking my butt, so bear with me while I struggle through this. Hope you have a nice day!! xx


	3. Chapter Two

The two of them had been awake all night, as is usually custom with Elves, even though they had told everyone that they were exhausted and ready for some rest. They had not rested, but were now peacefully lying next to each other, arms tightly wrapped around their naked torsos, and Thranduil gently stroked Elrond’s arm, cherishing the warmth he was radiating. He could feel the Half-Elven smile against his cheek, and he had to smile in return, perfectly happy about their current situation. 

Never had the Elvenking felt so whole, at least not after losing his wife, and he knew that Elrond felt the very same way. After all the recent events, Thranduil was immensely grateful for the peace and quiet that was now all around him – birds were singing in glee and soaring high up through the cloudless skies, and the tree leaves rustled in the air, creating the perfect ambience for a peaceful morning spend in quiescence with the Elf he adored the most. 

Elrond was also not moving a muscle to get up and to do his duties as Lord of Rivendell – they were perfectly happy to be resting for once in their life, disregarding their duties which they did not consider to be pressing matters. All would have to wait, because all was well. 

Only it wasn’t.

All of a sudden, Elrond tensed, and Thranduil looked at him with worry. Elrond’s eyes were wide and his face was as white as snow, his complexion of utter shock, horror, and confusion. Thranduil did not understand what was happening, for one second, they had been enjoying the sounds of nature, when right after, Elrond had stiffened without a warning. 

Finally, after what had felt like hours but had only been one second, the Half-Elven returned back to normal, and his expression returned to normal again, his usual frown reappearing, his muscles relaxing again.

“What is the matter?” Thranduil asked with a slight tremor in his voice. “Did you have a vision?”

Elrond nodded and stood up, grabbing his shirt to get dressed.

“What did you see, then?” Thranduil went on, not wanting to let go the matter at hand. Something in the Half-Elven’s face had scared him, and the image of the shock on Elrond’s face had been burned onto his retina, and his brain kept showing it to him again and again. He desperately wanted, no, needed, to understand what had caused that reaction, and, considering their recent history, he was concerned that Mirkwood or, worse, Elrond, were in danger again. 

“I am not entirely sure,” Elrond admitted, failing to button his shirt, for his hands were shaking slightly, invisible to the human eye. But Thranduil was not human, and his eyesight was far superior to that of humans, and he caught the trembling of his fingers, no matter how much the Half-Elven tried to hide it.

“What do you think you saw?” Thranduil urged on.

“I do not want to jump to any conclusions and assume the outcome of the future,” Elrond replied sternly. “The future is not an affair one can merely assume or guess, and doing so would cause more harm than good.”

“Then we can set the interpretation aside,” Thranduil said, not wanting to let the matter slide. “Describe merely the visuals, what you saw.”

Elrond looked at him reproachfully, for he clearly did not want to talk about the matter any more than he had already done, but Thranduil looked at him, unblinking, unwavering. The Half-Elven sighed.

“I saw a dark room,” he finally described. “It was pitchblack, I could not make out anything.”

That was odd, for Elves were usually always capable to see at least something in the dark. 

“I could not see anything, but I heard laughter. A woman’s laughter. It was soft, and quiet, but there was something else, someone breathing heavily. Then it cut off, and I was in the present again. It was only very brief.”

Thranduil did not really know what to make of it, as it was all very vague, but he did not want to conclude anything before he knew more of this. He stood up and started buttoning Elrond’s shirt, for the Half-Elven had given up his attempt of fixing his clothing. With each button that he closed, he gave Elrond a kiss, and the Elvenlord smiled, thankful for his support and grateful for having followed him back when he had left Mirkwood on his own. 

Thranduil was troubled, but decided not to let it show – he tried to focus on what Elrond had said, that making assumptions was not the best thing to do as of now. On the contrary, he could already feel discomfort rising within him, and the anxiety followed suit. The Elvenking reminded himself to keep breathing, to focus on anything else but the vision Elrond had just told him of now. 

He sensed that the Half-Elven was in the same boat as him, for they were both quiet and walking rather stiffly, obviously hiding that they were bothered, but neither wanting to talk about it, for they considered it useless until they had more information. 

And so they let the day go by, the way Elves who are in love usually do – they reminisced in nature, thinking about their shared time in Mirkwood and how different everything had been back then. Both had been troubled, in very different ways than now, but here they were, walking and talking quietly, hand in hand, casually exchanging signs of affection as if they had always been the most normal thing in the world for them. 

Later in the day, when the sun had just begun to set and the last remaining rays of light coloured the world around them in a deep, bloodred shimmer, Thranduil’s unease had almost wholly vanished, leaving behind only a trail of slight discomfort, which he managed to store away rather easily, while focusing on Elrond, who also seemed to be a lot more relaxed. The repercussions of the vision seemed to have let his mind go for a bit, and the Elvenking was glad that the Half-Elven’s state of mind had ameliorated considerably.   
“Ada,” a deep, male voice boomed behind them, serious in tone. 

Elrond turned around to see Elladan stand before them, worry clearly depicted on his young, beautiful face. 

“May I talk to you, please?” he said, a slight quaver in his voice now, as if he was fearful of what might happen next. 

Elrond nodded, surprised that his son would ask him for his permission to have a conversation. Even though he was not very fond of it, the twins did have the habit of just barging in wherever and whenever they liked to, and having Elladan stand in front of him, asking for his approval, was definitely something Elrond was not at all used to. 

“It is about you and Lord Thranduil,” Elladan said, no shame to be saying this in front of both. “I would like you to know that I have no objection to your relationship. Not at all. If you are happy, then I am content as well, and I will support you in every possible way. Elrohir still needs some time to come around, though, and I hope you can forgive him. But just know that he does not object either – it is just rather something we are not used to, and I apologise. Forgive me, father, for I was wrong to take this long to fully accept it.”

“There is nothing to forgive, Elladan,” his father responded softly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I understand.”

The young Elf was still fidgeting on the same spot and looked unusually child-like, despite his many years of age. 

“Is there something else?” Thranduil inquired, incredibly curious as to what else there might be, Elrond’s vision coming up in his mind once again. 

“Well, no. Yes, actually,” the Elf said hesitantly. “Father, Elrohir and I only have one inquiry.”

“Which is it?”

“Is this truly what you want?”

Elrond was taken aback.

“Why would it not be?”

“We are merely worried that…your mind and soul could have encountered some damage during your…captivity.” The usual elegance and eloquence had vanished from his speech, and Elladan hesitated before using certain words while tumbling over others.

“Are you thinking of your mother?” Elrond inquired, the familiar pain rising up again within him. His son nodded, and the Half-Elven took a deep breath. “I understand your worries, son, and I appreciate them. But you must know that your mother was imprisoned for a much longer time, and mistreated in ways I do not want to imagine. She fared much worse than I did, and I had the vision of Lord Thranduil saving me, which gave me hope to hold onto. Celebrian did not have that. She was completely left alone in the hands of Orcs, she was tortured for weeks until she was rescued. Her spirit was broken, unlike mine.”

His voice cracked as he said the last part, and Thranduil placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, comforting him. His own wife had not been kidnapped, but he had lost her in the most horrible way imaginable, and he knew what it felt like to lose the person you loved the most. Although he failed to imagine the agony that Elrond had gone through upon welcoming his wife back after freeing her and then discovering that she had been hurt in a way that could not be healed anymore, Thranduil knew that it must have been extremely painful, and he knew that Elrond was hurting still.  
Elladan was hurting still, too, for his eyes had started to shimmer with glistening tears that were full of pain. He nodded once, then started to turn around, but Elrond held him back.

“Let us dine together, shall we?” he said, approaching his son with careful steps. Elladan looked unsure at first, but then nodded.

“The two of us?” he asked.

“I was more thinking about the three of us, or four, or five,” depending on whether your siblings want to join us as well.” 

Elladan smiled all so slightly.

“I will let them know.”

With those words, he turned around, and left Thranduil and Elrond alone again, who looked at each other and smiled sadly. Thranduil embraced the Half-Elven, who hugged him back tightly, and neither of them let go for a very long time. 

Dinner was a comfortable time to have had that day, and despite Elrohir’s absence, as he was training in the woods somewhere, Elladan and Arwen were grateful to spend this time of the evening with their father and hear the story about his newfound love. Despite his initial fear of dinner being awkward, it was not at all, and both of his children treated Elrond’s relationship with Thranduil as the most ordinary thing – which it was, essentially, even though it was a new adjustment for them. It hurt him quite a bit to not have Elrohir around, but the Half-Elven allowed his son to distance himself a bit to gather his thoughts, for he would require the very same thing if he felt the way Elrohir did. 

Elrond was just in the middle of eating his salad when the familiar feeling of a vision overcame him, and the sight of the dinner table and his company vanished from his eyes, despite remaining in the very same spot. 

It was the same vision as the one he had had in the morning, only this time, the situation had exacerbated even more, and, in addition to the female laugh and the heavy breathing, he saw a strand of blond hair streaked with blood, its owner groaning in pain. Elrond's body froze when he recognised the sound and who had made it, for he had heard the exact same one when Urtak had stabbed the Elf in his vision. 

He let go of his knife, which fell to the ground, clattering and echoing loudly in the spacious hall. Thranduil was on him in a second, catching him just in time before he would have slipped out of his chair and crumpled on the floor. The Half-Elven was shaking more than he had done this morning, and his expression was frozen in shock. 

“Legolas,” he muttered, not bothering to hide the tremor in his voice. He looked up at the Elvenking, his eyes wide with fear. 

“Legolas,” he repeated, and then fell out of his chair, completely losing his balance and toppling all over, Thranduil unable to catch him as the lack of strength had occurred too fast for him to react.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, life has been a little bit messy so I completely forgot to update, but THEN I got two super lovely comments that absolutely made my day (you know who you are and I absolutely treasure you) and that made me smile for a solid ten minutes, so here I am with the new chapter!! I hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for bearing with me as I try to work out a schedule for regular posting. Life is calming down now (finally! I really don't like to complain but it's only mid-February and it feels like November), so I will get writing very very soon to be able to publish on a regular basis. I hope you are all doing well, and see you next time! xx


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to see the cover I made for this story, just to have a little (okay-ish) visual: https://averagefanfictionwriter.tumblr.com/post/644034759136346112/modest-cover-for-my-fanfiction-on-ao3

Meanwhile, in Mirkwood, Legolas was in the throne room, slowly walking up and down next to the wall, deep in thought. It was odd to be in here without his father, without his father’s guidance, and he knew deep down that this was not the future he wanted. Ever since he had seen the sea during his time in the Fellowship, which had then already fallen apart, he knew that he did not belong in the forest anymore, for the drive to see the water again was like a powerful current within him, deeply rooted in his spirit, as if a wave of the sea was pulling him with him, tugging at his body to take it with him. For now, he could resist it still – but as is the case with drowning people, at one point, they will give in to the power outside of their body and allow themselves to be taken. It was not a matter of if, but of when, and Legolas dreaded the day he would have to let his father know that he would depart. 

For now, however, there was too much holding him back still, despite the loss of a dear friend that he had had to endure only a few weeks prior to his father’s departure. The pain was still prominent and had taken hold of his heart, but he knew he had to let go, for his sake, and for the sake of his people, if he were to lead them in these times of his father’s absence. 

It was quiet, quieter than usual in Mirkwood, and even the trees stood oddly still. It was more obvious than ever that Middle-Earth had finally started to change to the better, and the condition of his homeland ameliorated with each day. The spiders were almost all gone, the remainder of the Orcs that had still been haunting and luring in the woods had almost all been slain in the last battle, so all was well. His injuries had all healed perfectly, and the only reminder he got was when the weather changed to the worst – whenever it rained, Legolas felt a slight burning sensation in his side where Urtak, the leader of the orc-tribe that they had battled, had stabbed him with his sword. 

The huge wooden doors were pushed open, and an Elven woman entered the hall, her face lightening up upon seeing him. 

“My Lord,” she said, but Legolas already raised his hand to interrupt her. He was not very fond of being addressed with his title, for he was humble in nature. 

“Vaeril, please”, he said softly, looking at her with gentle eyes. They had known each other for a long time, and she had been an employee in this Kingdom for as long as he could recall.   
“Alright, if you insist,” the Elf said, and Legolas nodded. “I merely wanted to inform you that supper is ready – do you want me to bring it to your chambers if you are busy?”

“I would much desire to eat in company,” Legolas responded, not at all wanting to be treated like royalty. Despite his abilities as a fighter, he did have the horrid tendency of not being very sociable – ever since he had joined the Fellowship, that had changed, but he had always remained the quiet prince. Now, with his father gone, whom he usually ate with, he thought it an appropriate time to change his habits. 

Vaeril nodded, and stepped aside to let her prince walk past her – that was a habit that Legolas had not yet been able to change, but he would work on her making more independent choices, for he did not believe in the sovereignty of the King and his heirs, and their superiority over any other person under their rule. The prince knew that she was following obediently, kindly following his orders, which is why he turned around and gave her a small smile, putting a lot of effort into making her feel comfortable. She reluctantly smiled back, clearly unsure of what to make of the situation, and Legolas felt ridiculous for wanting her to feel better and for desperately attempting to cheer her up. 

With Riniel dying in the Battle of Mirkwood, Legolas might have lost a close friend, but Vaeril had lost her husband and son, and now was left alone with no more family except for her fellow Mirkwood-Elves who had also endured loss in the times of terror. The Elvenprince saw the anguish and agony written all over her face, even though she never said a word about it. But the pain was everywhere – the way the corners of her lips hardly ever indicated a smile, and when he did force a smile, it did not reach her eyes, which were ash-grey, and sad, just like her skin, which had lost all of its vibrance and life. She was merely a lifeless figure clad in black and grey, her black hair flowing down her back in messy waves. 

“How are you feeling today?” Legolas addressed her, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation that he always felt whenever he was around her. He had known her a long, long time, but with the loss of her family, he was not sure whether he knew her at all, anymore. 

“I am quite alright, thank you,” she responded automatically, her voice monotonous. “How are you faring?” she went on, still in the same, uninterested tone.

“I am well, thank you, Vaeril,” he said and coughed quietly, trying to get rid of the soreness of his throat. 

Vaeril looked at him with no emotion in her eyes, and then went on past him, not waiting to see whether he was following or not. 

Legolas did follow her, but was unsure of whether he should or not, for he did not recognise his friend anymore, but wanted to be understanding and supportive. After a moment of hesitating, he went after her, calling her name to make her wait for him, determined to improve her mental state by simply letting her know that he was, figuratively and literally, by her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm such a clown. If you read the first version of this chapter, yes, I indeed uploaded the previous chapter again. Do you want to know why? I can't handle numbers and skipped a chapter last time, so here is the confusing part (at least it's confusing to me lol): this was originally chapter 2, but has now been switched with original chapter 3. Gotta look cute so they forget you don't know basic math, am I right? Thank you so much to my dear reader texting me to tell me I messed up: you are appreciated!!  
> But then AO3 was messing with me and kept showing the wrong text and it's giving me a headache. Why.   
> Despite all the chaos (sorry about that) I hope you liked today's chapter!! I really liked writing it, and I must say that there were some very lovely comments on the last chapter that absolutely made my day!! We're still at the start of the story, but comments and kudos do truly motivate me a lot, and I adore chatting in the comments because it is a form of social interaction I heavily lack nowadays lol. Hope you are all doing well, and I will get myself to writing so I can finally find some rhythm to be able to update regularly. Until then, take care, and bear with me xx


	5. Chapter Four

“What did you see?” Elladan bellowed, alarmed at the mention of his dear friend. “Ada, tell us.”

Elrond was still in shock, sitting on the floor, his legs spread out in front of him. Thranduil was worriedly kneeling beside him, holding his head in the most protective way, gently caressing his brown hair that was now messily flowing down his back. 

“Ada, what happened?”

“Nothing has happened yet,” Elrond said, not yet comprehending what he had seen. “But soon. I cannot pinpoint when exactly, but the future I have seen is now inevitable, and I fear that it might involve your son, Thranduil.”

“That I gathered, from the way you said his name,” the Elvenking admitted, surprising himself at the calmness of his voice. “Did you see anything more than this morning?”

Elrond told them of the additional details he had seen, and Thranduil paled. Even though he had not seen the vision himself, he kept imagining his son being in pain, and bleeding, while he was away, up until now unbothered by possible developments in the future. How could he have possibly known that something bad would be happening to his son in the near future, when all had been well when he had left? For the first time, Thranduil doubted Elrond’s ability of foreseeing the future, and considered whether it was possible that the Half-Elven’s soul had been harmed more than he let on or realised himself. 

“No offense,” Thranduil started, “but Mirkwood is secure. We drove all of the Orcs away, and peace has been restored in my Kingdom. My apologies, but I fail to see how any issue like the one you have foreseen could possibly come up in the near future. Can it not be happening many years from now, still far, far away from this day?”

Elrond seemed to consider it for a short while, hesitant at first, but then nodded, although Thranduil could tell that he was still unsure about everything. 

“If it is of any consolation, I can ride to Mirkwood to make sure Legolas is well,” Elladan offered, standing up straight and ready to go wherever his father’s command would send him.  
“No. Stay. So far nothing has happened yet, and–“

“Maybe it would be a good idea,” Arwen interrupted her father. “Your visions are clearly troubling you, and I think it would be very consoling and reassuring to know that Legolas is alright, and that the whole of Mirkwood is well under his rule as well.”

Elrond was quiet again, frowning hard, his gaze fixed on something only he could see, deep in thought. Thranduil was standing next to him, visibly on edge, displaying a vulnerability that he usually never allowed to surface – that is, he had never allowed that to emerge and be displayed on his outside before Elrond had convinced him to be better, and that there was nothing wrong with showing emotions. The Elvenking was deeply troubled, though, and he very much preferred to simply push aside his emotions and feelings to remain as stoic and calculating as he was known for. But after having seen his son almost perish at the hand of an Orc, the worry and anxiety he felt for his son’s well-being at the thought of it all happening again was agonising, and Thranduil wished to know that it had all only been in Elrond’s head, and that he had not really seen the future, or even the present.

“What do you think would be best?” the Half-Elven asked the fair Elf standing next to him. 

“There is certainly no harm in someone travelling to Mirkwood,” Thranduil responded. “If all is well, Elladan and Elrohir might stay there to visit. It has been some time since they last visited, and, though he does not speak of it much, Legolas does miss you and your brother’s company a lot, for he cherishes you two deeply.”

The last part the Elvenking said as he was facing the twin, who smiled in return, for he also missed his friend a great deal. The younger Elf looked gratefully at the King of Mirkwood, and was glad to have him on his side. He very much appreciated his father’s concern, but he had to agree with his sister that it would put all of their minds at ease if they knew that their friend, and son, was alright. 

“I will get to finding Elrohir as soon as possible, and then we can depart by tomorrow morning. I promise you, Ada, everything will be just alright. Your vision might still change and not occur at all in the way that you have seen it happen twice today. You out of all people know perfectly well that the future is never set in stone. Arwen should have proven that for you.”

Elrond looked at his son comprehensively, before smiling at his daughter who knew exactly what her brother was referring to. Her father knew too, and was grateful to still have her around, for his love for her had never wavered. Ever since she had married Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, he had missed her a great deal every day that she wasn’t present Imladris, and he could only imagine the hole in his soul that he would have had to endure if she had truly departed to Valinor, the way almost all his people had done. Now that she was visiting him, specifically after he had sent her a message that he needed to tell her and her brothers about the recent developments in his life – the incident with the Orcs, him falling for Elrond – had been of paramount importance to him, and he was grateful that Arwen was present to hear all of it. But mostly he was grateful for her not having departed Middle-Earth, proving that his vision of her dying in his realm had not taken place when he had seen it happen. Arwen would die, one day, for she had chosen mortality to be, to live, and to die with her husband. 

Maybe what he had seen in Legolas’ future was still far away, like everyone around him seemed to be eager to reassure him of. Even Thranduil, whose son’s life could be possibly endangered, agreed with not coming to any rushed conclusions before knowing more. He did not show it, but Elrond was deeply upset with the quick dismissal of his visions. Even though it might not happen right away, it could still happen at some point – but Elves lived for a very long time, even those who chose mortality over their immortality, and so did Legolas, who was immortal, and so did his future, for it also was permanent.

*

At night, Elrond and Thranduil were strolling peacefully next to the river, which was rushing past them in a soft dribble, the loud noise of the waterfall long past them. They were holding hands, Thranduil sometimes tickling the inside of Elrond’s hand with his fingers, who then withdrew his hand, rolling his eyes at the Elvenking, who in turn smirked mischievously. 

The side of Thranduil that Elrond was with now was so utterly different from the person whom he had encountered in Mirkwood. The current version of the Elvenking was definitely his preferred version, and Elrond felt this immense gratitude of being here rise within him again, and he smiled and grinned brightly. Thranduil returned the smile, his usually cold, grey eyes expressing joy in a way they had never done before. They were a brighter blue when he smiled, even in the dark, as if his irises were a blue sky now stripped of its dark, grey clouds, and instead embracing the sun, spreading its joyous light. 

The moonlight was shining through the treetops, and hit the two figures, who looked like silver statues at times. When they kissed, the whole scenery seemed to vanish around them, as if, as they usually felt, everything ceased to exist when they were one. Thranduil raised his hand to gently place it on Elrond’s hot cheek, and felt the Half-Elven’s smile against his lips. The turmoil of feelings within Thranduil was intense – the repercussions of Elrond’s vision still at the back of his mind were fighting the tremendous joy he felt in the presence. He would not let the complacency be overthrown by a mild sentiment of anxiety. Instead, he pushed the vision out of his mind, and focused solely on Elrond. Elrond, who would tell him if something was seriously wrong. Elrond, who had not left his side since he had been freed from the Orcs. Elrond, whom he loved dearly. 

All of a sudden, Elrond pulled away from him, and for a split second, Thranduil feared that he was seeing the future for the third time that day, but then realised that the Half-Elven was pushing him away from him. Confusion overcame Thranduil, for he did not understand what was going on. And then it hit him. 

The water hit him as he fell straight into the river, the current deep enough for him to dive right under the surface. He reacted instantly and resurfaced again, gasping for air – more out of shock than out of need for oxygen. 

Elrond laughed wholeheartedly, and Thranduil wiped the water out of his eyes. He was soaked, his hair dripping wet, and he could not help but join in the laughter. His robes were unusually heavy now, and their weight pulled Thranduil’s shoulders down. When he finally got out of the water – which turned out to be more difficult than expected, even for an Elf, for the rocks were all extremely slippery – Elrond backed away from him, expecting what would happen next. 

But instead of throwing him into the water, as the Half-Elven had anticipated, Thranduil took him by the hand and guided him towards the water and walked straight in again. Elrond followed him, guilt rushing over him as soon as his foot had touched the ice cold water. Being thrown into this icy water must have been a shock to Thranduil’s body, but he had handled it with grace.  
The Elvenking was already in the water again, only his shoulders protruding from it, and Elrond quickly followed him until they were opposite each other, breathing heavily and feeling each other’s hot breath on their skin. As soon as they kissed again, Elrond did not notice the cold around him anymore, but relished the soft touch of Thranduil’s hands on his neck and back.   
All of a sudden, Thranduil pushed him under the water, and Elrond gasped for air just in time before his head was under the water. Before he could react, Thranduil followed suit and kissed him, the sensation completely new and foreign to him. It was marvellous and felt so familiar and yet so odd, but it was just right and perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! The good news is, I think I have found a way to type without triggering my tendonitis too badly, look at me figuring stuff out while being productive!!! The bad news is, life is getting hectic, so hopefully I will manage to find some time to write and update regularly. I hope you are all doing well!! xx


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